


like the gods of old

by ThenaCykes



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Idk I got bored, Little pieces comparing the characters to mythological figures, Multi, more ships and characters to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2018-12-24 19:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12019620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThenaCykes/pseuds/ThenaCykes
Summary: They may be descended from both good and evil alike, but they all may as well be descended from gods too.





	1. Apollo

They’re free, finally, from the confines of the Isle, from the barrier and the rot and the dog eat dog nature of the prison they’d been confined to for so long. The Lost Revenge is out on the sea, where she should be, with her crew cheering aboard her, where they should be. 

 

Harry and Uma are on deck, the former having returned to his captain’s side after a moment of commanding the other crew members, simply watching. 

 

They’d been watching the sea at first, the way the waves parted beneath the bow of the old ship, the smell of the breeze, the spray of saltwater in their faces. The sun, no longer dimmed down by a blockade, lighting the features of each pirate on board. 

 

They’ve long since stopped watching the water - Uma, despite the way her blood calls and sings out for the waves to be beneath her fingertips and Harry, despite him being every inch the pirate his father was and more, have more pressing matters than the sea to attend to. 

 

Gil’s up in the crow’s nest. He should be on lookout duty, watching over them all and the sea combined, but they all know there’s very little out here in the open, not with the barrier having just come down and cars being so much easier to travel with nowadays. 

 

Instead of truly watching, he’s basking in the sunlight, pure light that hasn’t been filtered through a magical wall, harsh to eyes not used to it, but warming and gentle to the bones and skin that are taking its touch for the first time. 

 

His bandana is off - a rarity in itself - and the breeze of the sea ruffles blond around strong features, eyes closed and a careful calm etched into his face, that they know only comes from the freedom of the open sea and the bright world that they’ve never been able to see in all its glory before. 

 

They’re watching him, Harry and Uma, a brief unspoken moment between the captain and her first mate calling him to their attention. A glance up, to check if he’s alright; a moment of pause when they see he is, prolonged by his calm. 

 

Uma’s tempted for a moment, to bark a word or two of derivatives about him not doing his job properly, but something about his tranquility pierces her soul and Harry doesn’t protest, when she simply watches, turning his gaze to the subject of hers after a moment of her features holding him captive. 

 

Even though the barrier’s barely been down, he looks healthier than they’ve ever seen him. The sun makes him seem energised, brighter than he even was before and it’s gratifying. Gratifying that after years of darkness and poor living conditions, that he’s suddenly so much more full of life than he was before. 

 

Not that he felt even close to dead before, but there’s something powerful, in the thought of freedom. They can appreciate how much more in his element he is now. 

 

Uma thinks he reminds her of someone right now, a presence and a thought at the back of her mind, that has her squinting up at his figure - though the sun has her doing that anyway. 

 

There’s something in the way the sunlight streaks his hair gold, the clear cut of his jaw, the way the light bathes the bare skin of his arms in a way that gives them power, how his entirety is consumed by a warmth she can see and almost feel even though she isn’t up there. 

 

How seeing him like this causes a warmth to blossom in the very bones of the captain and her first mate, the kind of warmth neither would have even acknowledged back on the Isle, and the kind that neither want to vocalise now. 

 

It takes her a while of staring and admiration, before she understands, and the connection clicks in the back of her mind. Her back straightens a little, a sign of something coming, that Harry would notice, were he not occupied with the ship’s current lookout. 

 

“Apollo.” She murmurs the name under her breath, and her first mate would startle, were he not used to things coming up out of the blue. Instead he gives her a glance, brief and bright eyed, before settling back on Gil. 

  
“Aye.” 

 

And for a moment they’re content basking in the glow of their sun god, before the sea bubbles back up in Uma’s veins, and she tears her eyes away, stepping forward to yell orders, and pulling Harry’s gaze with her.


	2. Poseidon

Uma has always been a goddess among mortals. Always been a hurricane trapped in human skin, always had a storm behind both eyes, always had the sea itself running through her very veins in place of blood. Even without her true godly heritage - she’s never for a moment forgotten that the god of the sea is her grandfather - she’d still be more divine than any other soul in the world.

 

It’s evident in the way she walks, the way each step she takes exudes a power and a confidence that not many could hope to reach, let alone match. How her gait always has purpose and control, even if she doesn’t know where she’s going.

 

It’s in the way she moves, every movement all but crafted to perfection, intended to intimidate and doing just that. Every slight gesture commands her crew, and those who fear her, and every flick of her eyes draws attention to precisely where she wants it.

 

It’s in the way she talks, every word clear and sharp enough to cut firm through the air, yet each is almost its own melody. Every syllable is light and it carries, but they also hold a heavy weight, a power in her orders that ensures each one is obeyed. 

 

It’s in her features, so brilliant and beautiful for one from such a rotten place, flawless in her structure, the wicked sharp curve of her lips, the deep and enrapturing nature of her eyes, a siren song in themselves. 

 

It’s no wonder that the crew she picked out herself all but worship the ground she walks on, content to throw themselves at her feet, to obey her every command, to follow her to the ends of the world and back again should she ask. 

 

Harry and Gil admire every inch of her, adore every moment they spend in her presence, hang onto every word that falls from her lips as if it’s the only thing keeping them from drowning. It might as well be. 

 

She taught them both how to swim - literal, nights down in the harbour because pirates ought to know how, and figurative, giving them a purpose, pulling their heads up from underneath the dark black swill of the Isle to set their eyes on a far greater goal. 

 

It’s more than they could have asked of her, to let them grace the kingdom she should rule over, to show them the world under the sea’s surface that was taken from her before she was born. 

 

She can feel it on the daily, feel the way the saltwater in her veins screams for the sea itself, how the tumult inside her is only quelled when she sets foot into the waves and lets the tide sweep up the length of her legs. 

 

It was different when she was out of the barrier, for that brief single night, when she could feel the salt on her skin and feel the ache of her bones satiated even for a moment, when they sensed the kingdom of her birthright simply straight down. 

 

If she could call anything in her life good, it’d be the moment she dropped off the boat, could finally shed that mortal skin and come into herself, her true form, her true power. It felt good, so good to wreak havoc over the little bitty people for a time, to show them what she’s truly capable of. 

 

But no goddess is completely without benevolence. And Uma gave into hers willingly, if only for a moment, relinquished all she had once more. She returned her birthright to the sea so she could go back to the dull of the Isle that imprisoned her, the Isle imprisons her still and bars her from the truth of her heritage and her being. 

 

Uma has always been a goddess, and she knows she’ll have that power again one day.


	3. Eris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're interested in requesting something or seeing aesthetics i've made too, i'm at https://el-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/ !

There’s been chaos in the boy since he was born. 

 

He got it from his father, for one, from the years at sea taking everything he could, giving nothing back, inspiring terror in ally and foe alike. 

 

He got it from the sea, the affinity that sits in his bones, the crash of waves against the shore, the twist and turn of the tide.

 

He got it from his sister, once upon a time, the older one, with her dark, wild mane and the craze in her eyes as she’d threaten and claw her way to the top. 

 

He got it from Uma, from her fierce power, from the crew and all their rowdiness and running rampant in the streets, from his younger sister and her wild ideas. 

 

But beyond all that, beyond the other people that all gave him little parts of himself, he’s had it in him forever. Something bright in his eyes, something erratic in his every move and the way he walks, something entrancing in his voice, in the strange lilt that moves through his words and twists them into something more threatening. 

 

Sometimes Gil and Uma think he’s faking it. That he just puts on a front, makes his steps sway a little, makes his grin pull just a little too wide, makes his words bite just a little too harsh so he can get by on the Isle. They don’t voice it to even each other, and they wouldn’t blame him if it was true. 

 

But they’re reminded every time that it isn’t. There’s no way he could fake that light in his eyes, the one that flickers on whenever his gaze lands on either of them, whenever someone says something particularly stupid or comes up with a particularly good idea. 

 

It’s a crazed brightness, that means he’s all ready to either jump on board or jump at someone’s throat. It depends, more often than not, on who he happens to be listening to. 

 

When he’s listening to Uma, the bright doesn’t move, stays with his gaze, focused entirely on hers. With Gil, it’s always moving, following every inch of him as if it’s the last time he’ll see him. Anyone else, and it’s dimmed, thoughts geared to figuring out the best way to get rid of them. 

 

But it’s always there, tucked behind pale blue, as much as it rests in the hollows of his bones, in the twitch of his fingers and his mouth, in the sweep of his movement. 

 

Chaos rests in his bones, waiting to be needed. 


End file.
